


Boosting Ego

by Rothinsel



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fingering, NSFW, Other, Ports'n'cords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 15:44:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1715975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rothinsel/pseuds/Rothinsel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Casual wanna-be screwing in a surgery room, in a little Delphi Clinic, on an important planet Messatine at the edge of Autobot territory, where the jet flies backwards (or at least wants to do so.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boosting Ego

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eyemeohmy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyemeohmy/gifts).



> How to properly switch between tenses, that is: my grammar was never about rules, but hit'n'miss. Edited on my own.

Ambulon clenched his teeth and grunted, obediently raising his aft higher up as he felt a less-than-gentle smack that fell on it. Ah, nothing like mid-day spontaneous fragging in the currently nearly empty Emergency Ward. During a daily, regular check up. Right beside a patient in a condition fancily called 'eternal coma'. First Aid really wouldn't be happy about it. And the ward manager felt a tad bit guilty as well. But what can you do, when ridiculously long, blue fingers (does it really matter what colour they were at this moment?) dig into your seams, joints and port?

 _Nothing_. That's what.

Well, alright, you might be encouraged to moan, groan and drool, if only to additionally boost your CMO's ego. Which, by the way, was bigger than a fricking metrotitan. And obviously stimulating fellow doctor of 'ex-con-turned-autobot' reputation helped in making that ego swell even more. If Ambulon didn't know any better, he'd think Pharma tried to impress him with some overly complicated teasing and fingering. However, it was the jet's usual build-up to some seriously vicious pounding – and possibly helped him relax stiffened joints.

Or a hardened cord. Pick one, or both.

Ambulon pressed his cheek harder into the screen he was laying against, hearing the barely audible pinging of the sleeping warden's spark. He clutched at the console as he tried his best to not push his whole weight onto it.

Pharma bent over him, one hand supporting his frame by resting not far away from Ambulon's face. His shoulder vents blew warm air on Ambulon's back, and the ward manager felt his spark flutter at the sound of a rather charming chuckle that rang right above him. His struts tingled and he tensed once the jet found (or more like 'finally touched' rather than 'found') that particular little patch of sensors inside the moist port, not even that deep inside.

Ambulon began fighting for a steady breath, but of course it came out as soft, broken panting instead. He was all breathy gasping and nervous swallowing, as he tried to contain the coolant that kept gathering in his mouth.

“Oh? Did I hit the sweet spot?” Pharma inquired, knowing damn well that he did just that. Ambulon finally rolled his hips, moving along with the guiding hand.

“Keep hitting it.” The ward manager grinned briefly and keened. He glanced at his foggy reflection in the screen, and caught a glimpse of his pleased superior. “F-frag, just keep-- _hitting_ \--it.” Ambulon advised, and added a grunt or two in between words.

Pharma hummed, tapping the fingers of his unoccupied hand against the screen. “I suppose I can do that~”

Sweet, merciful Primus, he dragged those fingers against the sensitive mesh and Ambulon's mouth fell open. His vocalizer whined along with his vents when Pharma repeated the move and then simply kept stroking, and rubbing, and kneading. The ward manager's thighs trembled, the urgency for release growing and, yes, he drooled the screen. His jaw refused to cooperate and shut itself, so he just left it hanging. Bah, shame be damned! He refused to feel shame outside of washracks!

Besides, this was how it worked – Pharma indulged him, and he indulged Pharma. Ambulon didn't mind being a limp mess once over the finish line--

\--his optics flickered, as a tiny, sudden jolt ran through him. The smallest, barely noticeable, _itty overload_.

And, well, that was it. The whole worked up charge just disappeared, and Ambulon found himself staring at a wall, confused, surprised and unimpressed.

How did it even---when---but---

Betrayed by own frame. It was just unfair.

“Um.” The ward manager murmured, growing kinda angry at fingers that still pointlessly rummaged in him. Ambulon clicked his glossa in annoyance – sorry, mate, there's nothing more to do in there.

Pharma purred. “Hmm? Something you need--”

Ambulon interrupted the playful tone. “--Yeah, I'm done.”

“... what do you mean you're done?” Pharma finally stopped, sounding almost hurt. “When? I didn't feel anything---”

“Yeah, well, I'm kinda disappointed, too.” Ambulon wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. What a waste of good build up. He honestly hoped for some mind-blowing overload and now all he had was a wet codpiece and aching knee joints. Great. Fantastic. What a way to continue a boring shift.

“Well it certainly wasn't _my_ fault.” The CMO huffed, obviously feeling insulted.

Ambulon groaned. He snapped his cover shut, making the jet hiss as the tips of his fingers were caught. Pharma tugged them free and they both straightened up, pretending being nonchalant as they both glared at each other.

“Right” Ambulon sighed, and his shoulder slumped. “Listen, it happens--”

“To _you_ perhaps.” Pharma retorted, crossing his arms.

“You know what—no. Whatever.” Ambulon growled, his hands on hips in a semi-relaxed pose. “Go do your CMO-business or file a report on your employee having an unsatisfying climax, I don't care. I have work to do.”

The jet pursed his lips, wings shifting slightly. “Get to it then. Your break finished a while ago.”

Then they glared.

At least until First Aid cleared his throat and broke the awkward tension. His visor brightened up in curiosity.

“Did I miss something?” He watched them both casually return to their stations without another word.

He definitely missed something, yes.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well that was dissappointing, wasn't it?


End file.
